Deceived (Private Justice Book #3): A Novel (22 page)

“It’s rare. Most of the time, determinations are cut-and-dried. And if it’s an investigational/experimental treatment or procedure, an insurance company will automatically deny coverage. However, if there’s enough push back from a patient and the proposed treatment is out of the realm of expertise of the medical director, a specialist might be consulted.”

Kate was beginning to get a hint of where this was leading.

When Barbara continued, her tone was careful—and deliberate. “Without giving away any confidential information, I can tell you John did consult on a handful of such cases.”

Including David Sanders?

She couldn’t ask that. But why else would Barbara call back?

“I’m going to assume your comment has some connection to our earlier conversation.” She voiced the thought cautiously, aware she was treading on sensitive ground.

“Assumptions are relatively safe if you have data to back them up.” Barbara paused, then emphasized her final statement. “I deal with data every day.”

Closing her eyes, Kate exhaled.

They had their link.

“Thank you, Barbara.”

“No thanks necessary. I just gave you some background information on how insurance companies work and why medical directors sometimes call specialists. There’s nothing confidential
about those procedures.” Another siren sounded in the background. “I think I better hang up. Looks like some accident gapers ahead of me are in the midst of a fender bender, and I don’t want to join their party.”

“I hear you—and I promise I’ll be in touch after I have some answers.”

“I’m counting on that. Talk to you soon.”

As the line went dead, Kate put the receiver in the cradle, leaned forward, and opened the file containing Kevin’s picture. Gently she traced the curve of his chin. Ran her fingers along the sprinkling of freckles across his nose. Brushed her thumb over the flyaway blond hair she’d been forever smoothing into place.

Would she have the opportunity to do that very thing again?

Was it really possible a chance encounter on an escalator was going to lead to a reunion with the son she’d given up for dead?

More and more, the answer appeared to be yes.

Sniffing, she fished in her purse for a tissue—and saw the blinking message light on her cell. A quick scroll through missed calls pulled up Connor’s number, and she played the message back. It was short, just “call me when you have a minute,” and she responded at once.

He answered on the first ring.

After greeting him, she apologized for her delayed response. “I had a late appointment, and this is the first chance I’ve had to check messages. But I have news.”

“So do I. You go first.”

She relayed the information she’d received from Barbara. “So even though John never saw Sanders’s son as a patient, I think we can assume Sanders’s insurance company contacted him about some sort of experimental treatment. Is that a good enough link?”

“Better than good enough, based on what we discovered today.
I put the whole crew to work, and we came up with a lot of new material. If you have a few minutes now, I can fill you in.”

“I’m done for the day. My time is yours.”

She listened to his briefing, her confidence they were on the right track building with each fact he ticked off. And it went off the scale when he mentioned Sanders’s trip to China for stem cell therapy.

“That had to be what he was trying to get the insurance company to authorize.”

“I think that’s a reasonable conclusion. At this point, we have an excellent circumstantial case against him. But to get law enforcement to step back in, we need even more compelling proof. Namely, DNA.”

“Which will require the hair sample we talked about earlier.”

“Yes. That’s become a top priority.” He laid out the surveillance plan, ending with the final resort of a trash cover. “We’re going to be racking up quite a few billable hours with late afternoon/evening surveillance plus a full day on the weekends. I wanted to make certain you were on board with that.”

“A hundred percent.” She gripped the arm of her chair with her free hand. “You know . . . I’ve been trying not to let myself get too optimistic, and I realize it’s still possible the boy in the mall was Sanders’s adopted son—but I’m beginning to believe there’s a strong likelihood it was Kevin. What do you think?” She held her breath, knowing he’d give her a truthful assessment even if it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

There was no hesitation in his response.

“Until we have the DNA results, we can’t know for sure. But based on the evidence we’ve uncovered, I don’t think hope is misplaced.”

She released her grip on the chair, opening and closing her fingers to get the blood flowing back to her white knuckles. “This is feeling very surreal.”

“I agree. And frankly, I never expected this outcome. Thank God you followed your instincts that day in the mall and pursued this.”

“Trust me, I’ve been thanking him every single day. Numerous times. If that coincidence on the escalator leads where I’m thinking it might, it’s nothing short of a miracle.”

“I think that’s an appropriate description.”

The silence between them lengthened, and she fiddled with a paper clip. She didn’t want to end the call, but there was no reason to take up any more of his time.

Say good-
bye, Kate.

“I guess I better let you get on with your evening. Any special plans?”

“I wouldn’t call them special. I’m staked out down the street from Sanders’s house, where I’ll be until at least nine. Masquerading as McCarthy Heating and Cooling today, according to the magnetic sign on the side of the van.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You started the surveillance already?”

“I figured you’d approve it, and the boy’s hair is kind of shaggy. With school about to begin, he may get it cut any day. I don’t want to miss the opportunity to follow them to a salon.”

“If they go to one, how would you get a hair sample?”

“Most stylists would be happy to earn a quick fifty bucks for a few strands of hair.”

And his charming smile would seal the deal. “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

“Not with hair.”

She let that go, not certain she wanted to know details. “So once we have a sample, how long will it take to get the results from the lab?”

“A week if I push hard. Mitochondrial DNA testing takes longer. I’ll need a sample from you too.”

“Hair?”

“That or a cheek swab. I could collect either, but I’d rather send you to the lab so there are no chain of custody issues.”

“Then what?”

“If we have a match, I turn it over to the FBI. Interstate kidnapping is their jurisdiction.” A moment of silence ticked by, and when he continued, his crisp professional tone had been replaced with a warmth that seeped straight into her heart. “Hang in there, okay? We’re down to the final lap.”

“I will. And thanks for the pep talk.”

“Part of the job.” But his husky timbre said otherwise. “So what are you going to do tonight?”

She leaned back in her chair. “Write up some notes from the session I just finished, go home, eat dinner, and review some case files for tomorrow.”

“Your evening sounds about as exciting as mine.”

“At least it will be cooler.”

“No arguments there.” Once more, his tone grew serious. “Listen . . . in case you haven’t already been thinking about this, you might want to consider how to smooth out the transition for your son if this plays out the way it appears to be heading.”

“I’ve been mulling that over. No matter what I do, it’s not going to be easy.”

“For either of you.”

“I know. From everything you’ve learned, it sounds like Sanders has been a loving father—and I’m no more than a stranger to Kevin now.” As she gave voice to the concerns that had plagued her over the past few days, pressure built behind her eyes. “To be honest, I’ve even begun to wonder if I’m being selfish. I’ll be uprooting Kevin from the only life and the only parent he remembers for a second time.” She choked out the last few words.

“You’re not being selfish.” Connor’s words rang with conviction, soothing her frayed nerves and alleviating her qualms. “Just the opposite. The mere fact you’re wrestling with those
questions shows how unselfish you are, putting your child’s welfare above your own. If this boy is your son, you have every right to reclaim him and step back into the role that was stolen from you. I have no doubt your love will win him over, and that with your support and guidance, he’ll learn to deal with all that’s happened. But if you need a helping hand through all that, you can count on me.” His voice softened. “In fact, I hope you will.”

Kate swallowed a sob. “Thanks for saying exactly the right thing.”

“I’ve learned a few lessons myself over the years.”

At his quiet comment, she thought back to the story he’d told her about his failed romance—and knew her assessment of him the day they’d shared Chinese food had been accurate. Whatever his shortcomings in the past, he was now, indeed, a man worthy of trust and confidence.

“May I say I’m glad I’m the beneficiary of those lessons?”

“You may. And for the record, I’m glad too. Now go home and eat some dinner. I’ll call you with an update tomorrow.”

In the silence that followed his call, the snarl of tension in her shoulders eased as she began gathering up the files she needed for the evening. Amazing how simply hearing Connor’s resonant voice could reassure her. Make her believe everything would turn out fine.

John had been like that too. A simple phone call from him would restore the balance in her world on days when she had a problematic student, or Kevin was giving her fits during his terrible twos, or when she’d been in the doldrums with postpartum blues. His quiet strength, caring manner, and aura of competence had always smoothed the wrinkles from her world.

Based on what she’d seen so far, she had a feeling Connor would do the same.

And she was ready to find out. Much as she’d loved John, it was time to move on.

She paused to gaze down at the one-carat, flawless solitaire she’d worn since the night he proposed. Even on her wedding day, she’d pressed the tips of her fourth fingers together and transferred the engagement ring to her right hand before the ceremony so he could slip her wedding band in place without removing the solitaire.

Yet the intertwined set of rings was now part of a past that could never be recaptured, a reminder of what had been rather than what could be.

Squaring her shoulders, she tugged them over her knuckle. At first they resisted, but finally they slid off, leaving a bare ring finger.

No. Bad word choice.

Available
ring finger.

And if things progressed with Connor the way she thought they might, if someday a different ring occupied that finger, she wasn’t going to feel guilty about finding a new love.

She was going to feel twice blessed.

“I had a great birthday, Dad.”

Greg tucked in the sheet that covered Todd. “I’m glad.”

“I told everyone at daycare about it today. Chuck E. Cheese’s was a lot more fun than the Build-A-Bear party—even though I like my bear.” He tucked the baseball-themed stuffed animal into the crook of his arm. “I’m happy Diane came, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” But he’d be happier after she reported on her return visit to Kate Marshall’s office.

Unless she’d changed her mind about following through with the woman because she was still miffed at him.

“I miss our Saturday-night pizza dinners with her.” Todd yawned. “Do you think we could do that again soon?”

“I hope so.” He leaned down and kissed his son’s forehead. “Better get to sleep now. We have to get up with the birds.”

Todd hugged his bear tighter and smiled up at him. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you back.” The words came out hoarse, and he reached over to flip off the light, struggling to hold on to his composure.

Once in the hall, he blew out a long breath.

Man, could he use another beer.

Too bad he’d already had his daily allotment.

Shoulders slumping, he wandered toward the kitchen. Diane should be home from her support group meeting by now. In the past, she’d always called him—but there was no guarantee of that tonight, given the mixed signals he’d been sending.

He wasn’t going to get much sleep if he didn’t find out whether she was going to help him, though. Might as well ask. At this point, what could it hurt?

He retrieved the portable phone, punched in her speed dial number, and waited while it rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then it rolled to voice mail.

He throttled a curse. Unless she was acting way out of pattern, she’d gone straight home, exhausted as usual after her support group session. Meaning she’d seen his name on caller ID and was ignoring him.

When the beep sounded, he put as much warmth as possible into his greeting. “Hi, Diane. I thought I’d call and see how your session went tonight. Todd says hi too, and wanted you to know how happy he was you joined us for his birthday celebration on Saturday. I was too. Talk to you soon.”

He hit the off button, slammed the phone back into the charger, and fisted his hands on his hips.